Artoria's integration into Marine Headquarters had proceeded with remarkable smoothness, though her assignment to Vice Admiral Tsuru's fleet had been a deliberate strategic decision rather than mere coincidence. The elderly Vice Admiral commanded one of the few ships in the Marine fleet staffed entirely by female personnel—a practical arrangement that eliminated potential complications while providing Artoria with experienced mentors who understood the unique challenges of serving as a woman in a male-dominated military hierarchy.
Vice Admiral Tsuru herself embodied everything admirable about Marine leadership: tactical brilliance, unwavering moral conviction, and decades of experience hunting the world's most dangerous criminals. Her Woshu Woshu no Mi (Wash-Wash Fruit) allowed her to literally "wash" the evil out of pirates, transforming hardened criminals into flat, cleaned versions of themselves that could be hung out to dry like laundry. The psychological impact of such an ability on pirate crews was often more devastating than the physical effects.
"Artoria possesses exceptional potential," Tsuru had noted in her official evaluation reports, "but requires guidance in adapting her combat style to Marine operational doctrine. Her current approach, while devastatingly effective, lacks the precision required for missions involving civilian protection or intelligence gathering."
The assessment was diplomatically phrased but accurate. Artoria's preferred solution to pirate encounters involved unleashing sufficient force to obliterate entire islands—a tendency that made her colleagues simultaneously grateful and nervous about serving alongside her.
During their first joint patrol through the Grand Line's more notorious shipping lanes, Artoria had demonstrated both her incredible capabilities and her need for tactical refinement. When they encountered a pirate crew with a combined bounty exceeding 200 million berries, she had requested permission to "handle the situation efficiently."
Her version of efficiency involved drawing her sword and releasing just enough power to completely vaporize the enemy ship, its crew, and approximately half a square kilometer of ocean in the immediate vicinity. The technique was undeniably effective—no pirates escaped, no hostages were harmed, and the threat was eliminated permanently. However, the environmental impact and complete lack of prisoners for interrogation had prompted several stern lectures from Vice Admiral Tsuru about proportional response.
"In the future," Tsuru had explained with the patience of someone who had trained countless hotheaded recruits, "we prefer to capture at least a few alive for intelligence gathering. Dead pirates tell no tales, but living pirates can provide valuable information about larger criminal networks."
Artoria had accepted this guidance with grace, though her subsequent efforts at "capture rather than kill" had produced mixed results. Her idea of non-lethal force still involved sufficient power to sink battleships, leading to a standing order that she should refrain from operating the ship's controls except during genuine emergencies.
The single time she had been permitted to helm their warship had become legendary among the crew—not for her navigational skills, which were actually quite impressive, but for her helm style. Artoria drove naval ships the way she approached everything else: with absolute commitment and no concern for conventional limitations.
"It was like sailing inside a cannonball," one sailor had described the experience to his horrified colleagues. "She took corners at full speed, jumped over smaller islands instead of going around them, and somehow made the ship skip across the water like a stone. I've never been so terrified and amazed at the same time."
The crew's description of the experience as "unsuitable for human passengers" had resulted in a permanent ban on Artoria helm anything larger than a rowboat without explicit permission from Vice Admiral Tsuru herself.
As Artoria's reputation grew throughout Marine Headquarters, the subject of an official codename had become increasingly relevant. Marine tradition dictated that Admiral-level officers receive animal-themed nicknames that reflected both their personalities and their abilities—a practice that had produced such memorable titles as "Akainu" (Red Dog), "Aokiji" (Blue Pheasant), and "Kizaru" (Yellow Monkey).
The responsibility for selecting an appropriate codename had fallen to a committee of senior officers, who found themselves struggling to capture Artoria's unique characteristics in a single animal metaphor. Her combination of noble bearing, devastating power, and surprising gentleness defied easy categorization.
"She possesses the strength of a dragon," Vice Admiral Gion had observed during one of their committee meetings, "but the protective instincts of a mother lioness. Her combat style is reminiscent of a hunting eagle—precise, overwhelming, and absolutely lethal when she chooses to strike."
Through their growing friendship, Gion had learned about Artoria's particular fondness for feline companions of all sizes. her eyes would light up whenever she encountered cats around Marine Headquarters, and she had been known to spend entire afternoons playing with the facility's numerous strays.
"Large cats especially," Gion had confided to the naming committee. "She once mentioned that holding a lion with a full mane would be 'the ultimate expression of comfort and warmth.' It's quite endearing, actually."
This intelligence had led to several initial proposals: Golden Cat, Golden Leopard, Golden Tiger—each attempting to combine her distinctive blonde hair with her feline preferences. However, when these suggestions were presented to Artoria for approval, her response had been diplomatically negative.
"While I appreciate the thoughtfulness," she had said with royal politeness, "none of these quite capture what I'm looking for. I prefer... larger felines."
Then Artoria had made a suggestion that brought the entire process to a screeching halt.
"What about Golden Lion?" she had asked with innocent enthusiasm. "Lions are magnificent creatures—powerful, noble, protective of their pride. The symbolism seems quite appropriate for Marine service."
The silence that followed her proposal could have been cut with a knife.
Vice Admiral Gion's expression had shifted through surprise, concern, and finally something approaching dread as the implications sank in. "Artoria... that particular codename might prove problematic. There are historical associations that could complicate matters significantly."
The explanation that followed painted a picture of one of the most dangerous pirates in recorded history. Shiki the Golden Lion had been a contemporary of Gol D. Roger and Edward Newgate, a member of the legendary Rocks Pirates whose individual strength had rivaled that of future Four Emperors. His Fuwa Fuwa no Mi had granted him dominion over gravity itself, allowing him to fly entire islands through the sky as weapons of mass destruction.
"Twenty-four years ago," Gion continued, her voice carrying the weight of someone recounting a nightmare, "Shiki attacked Marine Headquarters directly. Half of Marineford was destroyed in the battle, and it took both Sengoku and Garp working together to finally bring him down. Even then, he later escaped from Impel Down—the first and only prisoner to do so."
The intelligence files on Shiki made for sobering reading. Despite losing both legs during his capture and having a ship's rudder permanently embedded in his skull, the Golden Lion remained at large somewhere in the world. Marine intelligence estimated his current power level as diminished but still extremely dangerous.
"Using his codename could be seen as either an insult or a challenge," Gion warned. "Either interpretation might provoke him into direct action against Marine forces—or against you specifically."
Artoria had listened to these concerns with the patient attention of someone accustomed to weighing political ramifications, but her final response surprised everyone involved.
"If Shiki takes offense at my use of his title, then perhaps it's time for the world to see what a true Golden Lion looks like," she had declared with quiet confidence. "I didn't come to the Marines to hide from pirates or avoid confrontation. If fate brings us together, so be it."
News of Artoria's codename proposal had spread through Marine Headquarters like wildfire, generating heated debates among officers of all ranks. The reactions had been predictably mixed, ranging from admiration for her courage to concern about potential consequences.
Admiral Sakazuki's response had been characteristically direct and enthusiastic. Upon learning of Artoria's intention to claim the Golden Lion title, he had burst into laughter and declared his wholehearted support.
"Excellent! Let that relic from the old era know that his time is finished!" Sakazuki had proclaimed with volcanic intensity. "The Marines have nothing to fear from broken pirates who live in the past. Artoria represents the future of justice—she should wear whatever title she chooses with pride!"
His endorsement carried significant weight within the Marine hierarchy, particularly among officers who subscribed to his philosophy of Absolute Justice. If Admiral Akainu believed Artoria could back up such a bold claim, many reasoned, then perhaps the psychological impact would favor the Marines rather than their enemies.
Vice Admiral Garp had offered a more measured perspective during a casual conversation in Fleet Admiral Sengoku's office, though his words carried their own form of support.
"Young people today certainly don't lack for courage," the Hero of the Marines had observed while munching on rice crackers. "In my day, we might have spent months deliberating over such a decision. These new recruits just charge ahead and deal with consequences as they arise."
His tone suggested approval rather than criticism, reflecting a lifetime of experience that valued decisive action over cautious deliberation.
Fleet Admiral Sengoku himself had wrestled with the decision for several days, weighing potential benefits against obvious risks. The strategic implications were complex: officially sanctioning Artoria's use of the Golden Lion codename would send a powerful message about Marine confidence and strength, but it would also virtually guarantee future conflict with one of the world's most dangerous fugitives.
"The Marines cannot appear to be intimidated by individual pirates, regardless of their reputation," Sengoku had finally concluded during a meeting with his senior staff. "Our mission is to bring justice to the seas, not to avoid confrontation with criminals because they happen to be powerful."
The official approval had come with strict conditions: Artoria would be expected to live up to the implications of her chosen title, meaning she would bear primary responsibility for dealing with the original Golden Lion should he choose to respond to what he might perceive as provocation.
And so they decided, Newly recruited Admiral Candidate Artoria Pendragon code name is Kinjishi ( Golden Lion)
Morgan's World Economic News had seized upon the story with characteristic sensationalism, transforming a simple codename assignment into front-page headlines that spread across the globe within days.
"PIRATE GOLDEN LION VS. MARINE KINJISHI: THE BATTLE OF TITANS!"
"NEW MARINE HERO CLAIMS LEGENDARY PIRATE'S TITLE!"
"DUEL OF DESTINIES: WHICH GOLDEN LION WILL ROAR LOUDEST?"
The newspaper coverage had transformed what might have been a minor administrative decision into a worldwide phenomenon. Citizens from every corner of the globe found themselves speculating about when and where these two legendary figures might eventually meet in combat.
Meanwhile, Marine morale had received an unexpected boost from the positive public reaction. After weeks of embarrassing revelations about their historical failures, the sight of a confident new Admiral candidate boldly challenging the most notorious pirates of the previous generation helped restore some institutional pride.
Far from Marine Headquarters, Admiral Borsalino was experiencing his own complicated relationship with duty and obligation as his warship approached the winter waters surrounding Drum Island. The mission to recruit Tony Tony Chopper had been presented as a routine diplomatic outreach, but everyone involved understood the true stakes.
Kizaru stretched languidly on a deck chair he'd had specially installed for this voyage, his trademark yellow suit somehow remaining immaculate despite the increasingly harsh weather conditions. Dark sunglasses protected his eyes from the glare of sunlight reflecting off ice floes, while he perused the latest newspaper coverage of his new colleague's bold declaration.
"Scary, scary," he murmured in his characteristic drawl, though whether he was commenting on Artoria's courage or the potential consequences remained unclear. "Today's newcomers really are monsters in their own way."
His participation in this mission had surprised many within Marine Headquarters, since Admiral Kizaru was notorious for avoiding assignments that required significant effort or personal risk. However, his volunteer status had been accompanied by an uncharacteristically practical explanation.
"If things go badly and we need to evacuate quickly," he had pointed out to Fleet Admiral Sengoku, "there's nobody faster than me on the entire planet. I can grab the reindeer and be back at Headquarters before anyone else even realizes we're gone."
It was a compelling argument that had earned him command of this expedition despite his reputation for laziness. Speed of escape might indeed prove more valuable than firepower if the intelligence reports about converging factions proved accurate.
The closer they drew to Drum Island, the more reports filtered in about other powerful groups moving toward the same destination. Crocodile and Blackbeard traveling together represented an unprecedented alliance. Portgas D. Ace's presence added the weight of the Whitebeard Pirates to an already volatile situation. Rumors about Kaido's involvement remained unconfirmed but deeply concerning.
"Admiral Kizaru," a nervous Lieutenant called from the ship's bridge, "we're approaching Drum Island territorial waters. What are your orders?"
Borsalino felt the temperature drop as they entered the winter island's climate zone, his relaxed demeanor shifting slightly toward something approaching professional attention. The frigid air reminded him why he preferred assignments in warmer climates—tropical locations were so much more conducive to proper lounging.
"Mm, it's getting cold out here," he observed with mild displeasure, rising from his deck chair with obvious reluctance. "Call me when we're actually at the island. I'll be in my cabin until then, staying warm."
The crew exchanged knowing glances as their Admiral disappeared below decks. Despite his casual attitude, they had seen enough of Kizaru's combat capabilities to know that his relaxed demeanor could shift to devastating action in milliseconds. For now, though, he seemed content to let them handle the mundane aspects of naval travel while he conserved his energy for whatever chaos awaited them on Drum Island.